30. Theo

After last night"s events, I"ll be the first to admit I had the worst sleep. Hearing everything from Bianca"s lips had been like a punch to the gut.

I neglect my work the whole morning; instead, I look on the internet for information on sociopaths.

The more I read, the more I realize how everything fit—the drugs, the violence, the lies.

What breaks my heart the most is reading that sociopaths aren"t capable of feeling love. They can pretend, but they will always value themselves above all else.

Bianca had said she"d wanted me. And so, she"d done everything to get me, violating every moral law possible in the process, some legal ones as well.

Now, the question is what to do next… Marcel"s been the only one I"ve told about my problems with Bianca, and I"ve yet to talk to him about confronting her. Considering all she"s been involved in, the natural course of events would be to turn her in.

She is, after all, a killer.

My mind is telling me that such a person shouldn"t be left roaming around free, but my heart can"t even fathom the notion that Bianca would be locked behind bars for manslaughter… if not even worse. I don"t know what that says about me. Here in my lofty position within NYPD, and I"m basically fostering a murderer.

So many times, I find myself glancing towards the phone, ready to make the call. But I just can"t. It seems that no matter how many times I try to live righteously, I always give up.

It"s around noon when my phone rings.

"Mr. Hastings, a Mr. Quinn Gallagher is here to see you," my secretary informs me. I freeze for a moment, my first intention being to not see him. But considering the circumstances, it might be more beneficial to see what exactly he knows or thinks he knows.

"Bring him in," I reply and close the connection.

I don"t know how I"m still functioning, caught between my duty and the mob, Jimenez gunning for me, and then my wife turning out to be a fucking sociopath.

Honestly, if only I could bring myself to turn her in, I"d be rid of two problems… both the mob and her. And therein lies the issue.

I can"t.

I look up to see Quinn Gallagher stride in my office, looking as menacing as he did on Sunday. His dirty-blond hair looks uncombed and disheveled. Although I think the length is supposed to hide the many scars marring his face. He"s wearing a basic black T-shirt that outlines his outrageous muscles and nondescript jeans. He"d be a handsome man if he didn"t look like he"s escaped jail. Or maybe he has, who knows.

"Mr. Gallagher." I motion for him to take a seat. He doesn"t say anything, his light-blue eyes staring at me. He finally nods and sits.

"To what do I owe this visit?" I ask, folding my hands in front of me. Quinn"s lips slowly drag themselves upwards.

"I think you know well why," he finally replies.

"I can"t say I do." I feign ignorance.

Quinn snorts before adding, "Sure… Barnett." My expression freezes in place at that name. It"s one I haven"t heard in more than a decade.

"Barnett?" I slowly ask, trying to keep my face from giving away how unnerved I am.

"Stop!" He puts his hand up, his eyes closing as if he"s at the end of his rope. "Let"s skip the whole denying phase. I know who you are. Or…" He looks me up and down. "Who you were."

I purse my lips. "I don"t know what you"re trying to do here…"

"You know… when I saw you, I immediately realized it wasn"t the first time. But then I had to think real hard to remember where I knew you from." He smirks, probably knowing he already has me. This was what I"d been afraid of all along. He then goes a step further and pushes a photo onto the desk towards me.

I take a look at the photo, and my eyes suddenly go to his in question.

"You could imagine my surprise when I came across this picture. You were my uncle"s favorite champion." He nods towards the picture that shows a bloody man full of bruises next to a man in a suit posing for the cameras.

"I left that life behind me," I answer tersely, but he continues.

"Looking at your circumstances right now, it doesn"t seem that you have. Also, that wife of yours… Does she know about your past? I"m guessing not. Although, based on what I"ve heard, you"re both cut from the same cloth."

"I don"t know what you"re talking about," I say again, trying to see what he knows about Bianca.

"Oh, come on. I think you found the only female who made her first kill at ten. Tell me, do you exchange notes on your victims?" I can see he"s doing this on purpose to rile me up, so I don"t answer.

"Not judging." He shrugs. "In our world, it"s rare to have your hands clean of blood. I"m simply curious at your dynamic." He pauses and studies me. "It"s not every day that you see a pairing such as yours. Hell, if my wife were like that, I wouldn"t have spent the last few years locked up." Quinn points to some tattoos on his arm, probably to show me proof of his years behind bars. Seems like my initial impression has been proven right. He did do time.

"Your wife turned on you?" I ask, and his eyes seem to darken at the mention, but he just shrugs it off.

And just like that, I"m back to my initial dilemma. Even if I could stomach turning Bianca in, I"d be just a hypocrite, since my hands are also stained with blood.

"I"m curious though, what happened to the actual Theodore Hastings." He changes the topic.

"He"s dead," I answer, and he lifts his eyebrows suspiciously.

"I didn"t take you for the treacherous sort, Mr. Hastings." The emphasis on my last name is not lost on me, but I feel compelled to clarify.

"Not by my hand. You probably realize how he ended up dead."

"That"s true… now that I think about it…" He looks me up and down, "My uncle used to rave about you. Quiet, hardworking. You never gave him any problems… Until the day you disappeared."

I purse my lips, not liking where this is going.

"You do realize my uncle still owns you, don"t you?" Quinn asks in a bored manner, and my hands clench into fists.

"What are you going to do about it?" I ask through gritted teeth. He knows he has me, so his smile is pure evil.

"Eh." He waves his hand. "I"ll have none of that. We need you more in a suit than in a ring. My uncle will just have to live with the disappointment. You, on the other hand… let"s just say you behave."

"So, that"s why you came here? To threaten me into submission?"

"Not at all. I just wanted to remind you that things rarely stay truly buried. You can enjoy what you have now, or… you can lose it all." He gets up to his feet as he says that.

"I guess we"ll see each other soon, Mr. Hastings. A pleasure." He tips his head and exits my office.

I"m left alone, and my mind retakes me to that night when I"d found my parents killed in the kitchen. I can"t help but ask myself if revenge is worth everything, even selling my soul to the devil. But just the picture of my mother shot in the head and my father lying in a pool of blood is enough to remind me what I"m fighting for and why. I can take whatever they dish at me as long as I get Jimenez"s head on a platter.

I never really cared much about my current life except to prepare my revenge.

Not until Bianca, anyway.

Now, there"s nothing left to lose.